If You Type, the Words Will Come

So romantic

So, I've essentially abandoned my blog in the past week. Not because my life hasn't been it's usual crazy and ridiculous self, but because every time I sit down to write, the words won't come. I can't think of anything funny or poetic or uplifting. (I can think of some pretty badass complaining, but thought I wouldn't burden you with that--well, not entirely--I'm definitely going to complain a lot a bit in this post. I am still me, after all.) However, people continue to read my post-less blog, so I'm back. Hoping the words will flow out of me like the wine has been flowing out of the bottle and into my mouth lately. (Seriously. Someone in our house has broken almost every wine glass we own, so we've taken to drinking it straight from the bottle. Stop that judging immediately. We have hard jobs.)

What's been going on in my life lately:

--Joel surprised me with having BOTH of our cars detailed! As someone who spends 90% of their time in the car, this was like Christmas. And to quote him exactly, "No more melted peanut butter!" It's like having two new cars. Now I drive around judging people with messy cars. This is, until mine is messy again in like 2.5 days, then I'll judge myself.

This is the best way to deal with teenage boys.

--Joel has planned two date nights in the last week. One was a steak dinner at the farm and the other was a fish fry. They were both amazing, unexpected, and exactly what I need after the long hours I've been working.

--I've been working like a dog. (Although my dog effectively does no work at all, so I don't really understand that phrase.)

--We had my three younger brothers out to the farm Sunday to work a little and play a lot and get on my nerves a bit. They brought four of their friends. In total, it was seven teenage boys spending the day with us. This is what I learned:
        ---Never have seven boys.
        ---I am a cougar to my brothers' friends.
        ---I kinda like it.
        ---I'm not sure how to handle my brothers as    
       pubescent teenagers (arm pit hair was tough, sex talk
       is tougher, wondering how my 12 year old brother got
                                                                            kinda hot is just plain gross).
        ---And never take 7 boys to Subway for lunch unless you planned on dropping almost $100 in
            under ten minutes. There is not an ounce of exaggeration in there. I swear.

--Joel's friends came out after my brothers left. I almost prefer the teenagers. One of his friends admitted to being dumb but making up for it by being really loud. Truer words were never spoken.

Hunka hunka burning ridiculous

--I had to work the Kentucky State Fair. If you've done this for my company before, you know how terribly miserable it is. Someone on our staff was, for some crazy reason, excited about this. I won't name names but her initials are D-E-E. I remarked within the first five minutes of being at the state fair that there is not one single piece of redemption about coming to and working the fair. (I was later proven wrong.) I had to park 10 miles away, walk in the heat, and search the huge exhibit hall for my booth. I had to wear khakis--if you know me, you know this was torture enough. I saw Elvis impersonators, a kid eating a book mark, people getting temporary tattoos on their faces, dogs in strollers (my dog is spoiled, but this is simply beyond me. They have FOUR legs to our two. Surely they don't need to be pushed around.), and fat people who'd eaten other fat people for lunch. I was in sure and utter pissed-off mode until... ICE CREAM MUFFIN SUNDAE came into my life. I had searched out a healthy option of a salad for dinner ($19.50 for a salad and water--that's reasonable) and decided to treat myself. So I politely asked for one scoop of cookies and cream ice cream. The sweet (as in blood sugar, not personality) girl behind the counter suggested I get an ice cream muffin sundae. I nodded, mesmerized at her amazing sales ability. This was a double chocolate chip muffin that had been warmed to perfection and cut down the middle, then stuffed with two huge scoops of cookies and cream ice, and covered with hot fudge, whipped cream, and nuts. I ate that shit like a champ!  And it must have triggered the fat girl inside me trying to get out because I have thought about that dessert like it is a long lost lover ever since. I have stayed up at night wondering what my life would be like if that were in it every day, if I had never thrown away the last few bites, if I had decided that I needed those types of food in my life long-term. I will never forget that sundae, and there's a part of me that will always wonder, "Did it love me as much as I loved it?"

--I had to stay in a damn hotel room. Again, if you know me, you know how I despise hotel rooms, but this was worse. I got the last room in the inn, and it was a smoking room. You heard right. I had to suffer for 6 full hours what a room smells like when it has been smoked in for the past 15 years. I was irrationally pissed off and angry all night. I snapped at the hotel clerk. I threw a huge fit in the middle of the night. I screamed for no apparent reason. And I woke up stuffy and puffy and miserable. Damn you, Hampton Inn in Louisville, you just wait til I get that customer satisfaction survey!!




--Leslie and I have perfected the art of the after-work drink. There's nothing more relaxing than having a glass of wine or cold beer to unwind after being subjected to working at the state fair for far too long and a smoky hotel room. Or even a long days' work. And, girls, an after-work drink is just what the doctor ordered. (And by doctor I mean someone who has a bachelor's degree in psychology and quit her Master's program when they fired my favorite professor. I totally showed them.)

Please, sir, may I have another

--I got a big dose of birth control at Kroger. Not like, I waited in line to get a depo shot, but like I saw what it's like to go shopping with several children in tow. And it ain't pretty. I went right after school released, and I'm guessing Moms had decided to shop for dinner or whatever Moms shop for at that time that day. All moms of small children in Owensboro were in Kroger that day. And they were all checking out at the same time as me. I saw mothers who clearly much rather punch their kid in the face than say yes to another pack of gum. I saw mothers scream at the lady behind them in line for encouraging their children to stick out their tongue. I saw moms start to tear up when they realized one of their four children had peed their pants again (apparently for the second time that day). I saw Casis who almost had a panic attack because all of the squealing and screaming and crying and yelling was making her heart want to jump out of her chest and cram itself into one of the sixty screaming mouths around her. Then I strolled, with my $200 worth of groceries that included nothing with a cartoon character on it, out of the store, got into my clean car, and came home to my quiet house. Then I thought to myself, "if Joel so much as looks at me tonight, the answer is no."

--I finally had a bit of time to do some cleaning and realized we have 18 loads of laundry that need to be done. EIGHTEEN. Pause--I just remembered I need to switch a load over.--Okay I'm back. Granted, it has probably been about two weeks since I've done more than just necessity laundry (we both have a lot of clothes, there are rarely loads of necessity laundry done.), and we brought home sheets and blankets from the farm. BUT STILL. 18 loads?!? The only thing that, in my mind, can explain this is that when we're gone, CD dresses up in our clothes to solidify himself as a human instead of a dog. And, in that case, he needs to start doing human things like laundry. But this 18 load shit ain't gonna fly. I have a full-time job. I don't have time for that.

--Today, I get to go pick my little man up from school, and we're going to go play at the farm. He's not so little anymore, and in fact, turns 8 on Monday, but he still wants to and asks to come stay the night with his aunt. And, for that, all of these other things are worthwhile. If he wants, I'll even do his laundry.